


When The Clouds Get Heavy

by missjo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missjo/pseuds/missjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SURPRISE! This fic surprised me so why not? Since eatingmoonflowers wanted some Thommy + afraid of storms fic my brain cooked this up last night when I was supposed to be sleeping. Jimmy is afraid of storms! Some angst, light hurt/comfort, and general fluff within. Oh, and established relationship! I finally did the thing!</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Clouds Get Heavy

Jimmy had not spent much of the war at the front but he had spent just enough time there to know what the fall of mortars sounded like. They haunted his dreams -- where he would relive the way his father must have died, with the mortars falling all round him like a rain of death. Ever since the war and the telegram and the dreams Jimmy had a problem with storms.

It hit near the end of the upstairs dinner. The first rumble of thunder set Jimmy’s teeth on edge. He could feel his palms starting to sweat just as Thomas motioned for them to clear the dessert plates away. By the time he had taken all the plates he must have looked something awful judging by the worried look Thomas gave him.

“Are you quite well, James?” he asked in his stiff under butler tone but the line of his mouth was kind and there was a softness in his eyes that momentarily soothed Jimmy.

“I am, Mr. Barrow,” he replied, clenching his jaw hard to keep himself from jumping out of his own skin at the next clap of thunder.

Thomas shook his head. “You’re white as a sheet. Go have a lie down and I’ll have someone bring up a tray later.”

“But, Mr. Barrow…” Jimmy looked back in the direction of the still full dining room.

“The ladies will go through in a moment and I’m sure Mr. Molesley can handle his Lordship and Mr. Branson. There’s no need for you to pass out at the table and cause a fuss. Off with you.”

Jimmy could barely contain his flinch at the next boom of thunder. He gave Thomas a stiff nod and hurried away from the dining room. He bolted up the stairs and didn’t stop until he had his bedroom door closed behind him.

Once he was in the privacy of his own room Jimmy allowed himself to collapse onto his cot. He balled himself up, hugging his knees to his chest, and tried to keep his shaking at bay. When that didn’t work he began to rock back and forth and hum the melody to a lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was a little boy. It didn’t do much good either.

By the time a knock came at his door Jimmy had stripped down to his shirtsleeves. The fabric stuck to his back with sweat. The door opened and closed. When he looked up and saw Thomas carrying the tray himself shame cut through his fear.

“Oh, love,” Thomas murmured softly and placed the tray down on his side table quickly so he could sit down beside him.

Jimmy shook his head and inched away from him. “Don’t touch me,” he said through gritted teeth as another clap of thunder hit. This was the neverending storm, it seemed.

Thomas flinched at his tone and pulled back. “Jimmy, if you’re seriously ill I should call Dr. Clarkson.”

He shook his head again. “Not ill.”

Another thunderclap hit and Jimmy flinched, curling deeper into himself.

“Jimmy… are you frightened by the storm?” Thomas asked him slowly, disbelief evident in his voice.

There was no use denying it. Thomas was a clever sort and Jimmy had lost all ability to control his reactions to the storm raging around them. Instead he swallowed down his humiliation as best he could and nodded.

“Jimmy,” Thomas said in an authoritative tone that made Jimmy lift his head from his knees to look at him. “Good. Keep looking at me. Focus on your breathing. Take deep, long breaths.”

Jimmy took in a long, shaky breath and carefully let it out. Thomas’s mouth quirked into a smile.

“Yes, like that. In and out, Jimmy. Count them.”

“One… two… three…” he counted in time with his breaths, his eyes focused on Thomas’s face. Slowly the shaking stopped and he felt the clench of fear in his belly ease. “Twenty… twenty-one…”

Relief shown on Thomas’s face. “Well done, Jimmy. Can I touch you now?” he asked softly.

Jimmy nodded and curled against Thomas as the other man wrapped his strong arms around him. He smelled of safety and home. Jimmy breathed him in as the last distant roll of thunder faded away.

They remained like that for a moment. Thomas kept one warm, broad hand at the small of his back while he ran his fingers through Jimmy’s damp hair in long, soothing strokes.

“M’sorry,” Jimmy huffed, dread and humiliation coming to the surface now that the fear had left him. He felt like a complete and total fool for what Thomas had witnessed.

Thomas pulled back just far enough to look at him. “Y’couldn’t help it.”

“Sure I could,” Jimmy replied and removed himself from Thomas completely, crossing his arms over his chest. “It were just a bloody storm. I didn’t have to be such a great big girl about it all.”

Thomas’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “You were having a panic attack, Jimmy, I saw far worse than that during and after the war. Did it remind you for the front? The storm, I mean?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t spend enough time at the front to be reminded of it, really.” He hesitated before speaking again but Thomas had already seen him at his most pathetic so he decided to surge forward with it. “They make me think of my dad.”

Thomas was silent for a beat.

“Your dad?” he asked incredulously.

Jimmy shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “When I dream about him dyin’. All the mortar shells. Not sure why I do it at all -- we were never close; I don’t think he quite knew what to do with me -- but my mum were so cut up about it all…”

Thomas put a hand on his arm. “Y’don’t have to explain it to me if it’s difficult,” he told him softly. Jimmy sighed and sagged in relief. “Just come here so I can hold you for a bit before I have to go back down.”

With a pout Jimmy slid forward to wrap his arms around Thomas, pulling him closer against himself. Thomas sighed and hooked his chin over Jimmy’s shoulder as he held him.

“I’m afraid of fish,” Thomas told him suddenly and pressed a kiss to his neck.

Jimmy snorted. “You are  _not_.”

“Well…” Thomas replied thoughtfully. “Maybe not in the same way you are of storms. Fish are  _unnerving_ , though, with those beady eyes and gaping mouths. Bloody frightening indeed.”

“Fish?” Jimmy snorted again and nudged him in the stomach. “You’re a loon.”

Thomas chuckled around a grunt of discomfort and kissed his temple tenderly. “Complete idiot,” he agreed lightly. “Will you be alright if I go back downstairs for a bit?”

Jimmy nudged him again. “F’course. I’m not a child, Thomas,” he retorted and lowered his arms.

Thomas rolled his eyes and stood. “Try to eat something and get some rest,” he said with the heavy patience of someone used to dealing with Jimmy Kent and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back up later.”

Jimmy shooed him off with a laugh. Just before Thomas was out the door he called for him. When Thomas paused and turned to look at him he ducked his head, suddenly shy.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sheepishly.

Thomas smiled and gave him a nod before closing the door behind him.


End file.
